


Ma'arlath, Ma Vhenan

by PastelKitten



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Mild Smut, Mostly non-explicit anyway, Non-Explicit Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-11
Updated: 2015-01-11
Packaged: 2018-03-07 03:35:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3159725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PastelKitten/pseuds/PastelKitten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes he’ll gag her, if they need to be quiet, or occupy her mouth with his lips or fingers, but he prefers to hear the way she sighs his name like a prayer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ma'arlath, Ma Vhenan

**Author's Note:**

> Pretty short. I just wanted to type something up about their romance, because I loved it. A little mild for this profile, but I've got something more explicit coming later on.
> 
> Tumblr Link: http://adorablynsfw.tumblr.com/post/107796200804/maarlath-ma-vhenan

He’s a little worried, the first time he touches Lavellan. He’s rather sure he won’t hurt her; he wouldn’t be doing this otherwise, but it’s easy to think that when he’s watching her stand right back up after a demon knocks her hard against a boulder. Less so when she’s lying on her bed underneath him, stripped of her armor and weapons and so damn tiny. Sometimes he forgets she’s an elf, because he can’t help but see her as six feet tall when she’s sat in that throne of hers telling whatever prisoner’s been brought to her what punishment she’s putting on their head. When she’s ducking under a sword and stabbing her daggers into someone’s gut, it’s like she’s _made_ of grace and power, but like this? She’s flushed and shivering, fingers flexing as he holds her hands above her head, barely having to put anything into it to keep her still with both her wrists trapped in his grasp. Her bottom lip’s caught between her teeth, biting it red and swollen to keep herself quiet and even that fails when he slips a finger into her and she fucking _mewls_. Like this, he’s half-worried she’s going to shatter when he leans down and kisses her.

The next day, when she asks to talk about what happened between them, she’s right back to her normal self. Her voice is soft but rarely gentle. She’s a hunter, more used to skirting through the shadows of a forest on half-bare feet where silence is life and one snapped twig means scaring off her entire clan’s dinner. The tightly buttoned clothes Josephine insists on when she’s in Skyhold don’t suit her, don’t match with the dark, shaggy locks of hair or the tattoos he knows disappear under the neck of her overshirt and twist in curling, dotted patterns down her body. He thinks she looks better when she’s in her armor, but that’s probably because it makes her look more wild, untamed. Dangerous. And nobles don’t like having too many things reminding them they’re talking to an elf.

He gets her to practice saying ‘katoh’, ten times in a row until he’s sure she remembers it, and then he tells her to practice it again later, tell her to repeat it until the taste of it on her tongue is as familiar as breathing. She promises to do so and he gives her a smile and a tap on the rear before he heads back to the tavern and lets Sera indulge him and his Chargers in a story involving a noblewoman and a few too many drinks.

She comes undone when he pushes his fingers in at just the right angle, and he’s thought the boss was a pretty little thing since he met her but like that she’s beautiful. Legs kicking, hips bucking, open and vulnerable and crying out in Elvish words he can’t understand. That night he introduces her to blindfolds. He shows her the strip of fabric, lets her run her fingers over it, examine it to her liking, then he lifts it and folds it gently over her yellow eyes. He’s careful not to catch any dark strands of hair in the knot when he ties it. She clings to him when he tries to get up, and he sits there and holds her for a while, tenderly reassuring that he’s just going to get something, that he’s not going to leave. The blindfold is a bigger deal for her than he’d thought it would be, but when he thinks about it he’s not surprised. She’s a hunter, a fighter, his wild little elf. Her sight means everything to her; having it taken away must be nerve wracking. When she finally lets him leave, he returns with a length of rope and binds her arms, coils it like a snake from her wrists to her elbows, and she takes to it much better than she takes to the blindfold.

She always bites her lip, always. One night, when he’s deep inside of her and whispering praise and filth into her ear, he lifts a hand and gently tugs her lip out from between her teeth. He was expecting moans, loud and high, but instead she gives him these breathy little whines that make his heart jump. He’d been planning to kiss her quiet, but instead he bites gently into the tip of her pointed ear and revels in the surprised squeak she gives at the feeling of his teeth. After that night he makes a policy on no lip biting unless he’s doing it for her. The noises she makes are too good to pass on. Sometimes he’ll gag her, if they need to be quiet, or occupy her mouth with his lips or fingers, but he prefers to hear the way she sighs his name like a prayer.

The night after they kill their first dragon together, he invites her for a drink and she drinks perhaps a little more than she ought to have. It’s a little funny, watching her drain tankards as big as her head, and it’s even funnier watching her sway in her seat and giggle at every bad joke he tells. That night he calls her ‘kadan’ and later she sits in his lap and they sing drinking songs with the rest of the tavern. He carries her to bed because she can’t walk, and the next morning he wakes up regretting having not kicked his boots off before falling asleep and hoping the elven woman asleep on his chest doesn’t remember to ask what that Qunlat word means. He’s not sure if he can back it up when he’s not three tankards in. The boss is something special, alright, but she doesn’t have the Qunari view of relationships that he does and he doesn’t want to make her any promises he can’t keep.

They plan most of their nights together, working around her schedule to make sure she won’t be walking funny when she has to meet with a noble or anything like that. He hadn’t been thinking he’d get the Lady Inquisitor’s company tonight, but when Skyhold is dead quiet and even the tavern’s closed, she wakes him with a knock on his door and tells him she wants to sleep with him. He glances over her nightgown and chuckles, then, tiredly, he suggests they try for it in the morning when they’re both more awake and tells her to go back to bed. She sticks her foot in his door and tells him, no, she wants to sleep with him, not get off with him. Apparently she’d had a bad dream and a cup of herbal tea had done no good to get her back to sleep. The thought is endearing, and it’d hardly be the nice thing to do to let her stand out in the cold any longer. So he reaches down and plucks her up with one arm, kisses her head as she kicks off her boots, and murmurs to her for a moment before he realizes she’s already gotten back to sleep. The next morning he gets clothes from her room for her to change into, and she suggests in an uncharacteristically gently tone that they should spend more nights together like that.

For a week she’s distracted. He sleeps in her bed when she asks him to but makes no attempt to take it further than that. Her mood’s not right. Too distant. Like she’s worried about something. He can’t calm her down until he’s figured out what’s bothering her, so he settles for waiting. When she does ask to talk to him, she’s twitchy and anxious, so he takes her to her room and kisses his way down between her legs, hums delightedly when her legs drop over his horns and puts his mouth to good use until she’s relaxed and drunk off the pleasure. She grins and glances away when he tells her she’s beautiful, as though she doesn’t know it (but he knows she does).

Getting walked in on (by three people, no less) put a damper on the mood, certainly, but hearing his Inquisitor say to three of her most important people that she intended to continue whatever their relationship was warmed his heart in an odd kind of way. The dragon tooth necklace did so even more. He decides to tell her what ‘kadan’ means, and privately he decides to himself he doesn’t want to call her anything else. The next day he jokes about her sudden limp and she glowers at him, but she kisses him in front of the whole damn tavern and he’s glad for there to not be any obligation of secrecy anymore.

He’s not sure what he’ll do in the future, and Lavellan doesn’t seem to know either. She whispers sweet words to him, says ‘ma'arlath, ma vhenan’ but doesn’t tell him what it means. He’s okay with that. He’s happy with the way things are now. If his wild little elf decides she wants more from him someday in the future, well, damn, he’s never been great at saying no to her.


End file.
